Grandpa loved to hunt, and he really didn’t care what he hunted just as long as he was out in the woods.
He liked to hunt with all the grandkids when he could. We were always trying to get the best of him in a gun trade or trying to beat him in a shooting match. Neither one was easy to do.
As he got older and his eyes became weaker, he needed to have stronger and stronger glasses in order to see.
One morning after a change to a stronger pair of glasses, he had gone squirrel hunting. When he came home I asked him if he had any luck. He said he had done nothing but waste shotgun shells.
He said that early in the morning just after daylight, he thought he had seen a squirrel run down a grapevine. He had shot at it several times with no luck.
Later in the day he had seen what looked like the same squirrel on the same grapevine and had fired several more shots at it, with no luck once again.
Still later in the day, he thought he saw the same squirrel again on the same grapevine.
After firing several more shots at it with no luck, he realized that what he was seeing was a strand of hair on his forehead that had fallen down over his glasses, and a louse was running up and down the hair.